


Dance Me to the End of Love

by EclipseOfTime



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Strictly Come Dancing, Billy Bones is a dork and now I want canon Eleanor and Billy friendship, Canon Bisexual Character, Charles Vane only exists in brief mentions, F/F, F/M, Jack and Anne are a Russian ballroom power couple except they're from Northern England, M/M, Silver makes the perfect cheesy host, also rated T because Max is too hot and unsuitable for children, rated T for Eleanor's potty mouth, that tag has never been used before I cannot believe, the world needs more Strictly AUs, this is probably as ridiculous as it sounds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2270295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclipseOfTime/pseuds/EclipseOfTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Eleanor Guthrie is a rising politician put in a difficult situation by having terrible taste in ex-boyfriends; signs up for a reality TV show; wears sequined dresses; makes friends; falls in love and maybe in the end wins a trophy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance Me to the End of Love

**Author's Note:**

> As Eleanor would say, this is fucking absurd. But I'm Strictly geek and I'm also very gay and have a lot of Maxanor feels and enjoy the idea of Max wrapping her legs around Eleanor's waist at every given opportunity so here we go: the Black Sails Strictly Come Dancing AU that nobody asked for.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Black Sails or Strictly Come Dancing. If I did we'd have Noomi Rapace as Mary Read and Bruce Forsyth would never have been allowed to appear in front of a camera.

"It's fucking absurd." She muttered tossing aside a newspaper with Vane's mug-shot plastered on the front. Actors, Eleanor mused, were the worst kind of people to date. Apparently, breaking up with them didn't make it easier to wash yourself of their mistakes either.

Scott threw her a withering look at her profanity and she felt a flush creep up her cheeks. He was the only one except for her father – and to be fair, Scott deserved that title better than Lord Guthrie - that could ever make her feel chastised for her foul mouth, and all with just a simple look.

"It's absurd," she repeated, dropping the expletive and standing up from her desk, "and it has nothing to do with me. I haven't even _seen_ Charles in months."

"That may be the case," Scott replied, even, calm and in a tone of voice that told Eleanor he was about to tell her something that he only he could tell her without it resulting in a PA being traumatised for the fifth time that month. "But every interviewer, every tabloid, will use this against you in the run up to electing the party leader. Whether or not it involves you, if left for too long it will stain you, Eleanor."

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, turning her back to Scott and leaning against the desk. "Then how do we stop the shit from staining?" She heard Scott make a small 'tsk' at her profanity again.

"You can't. But you can't give them something else to talk about." He was being purposely vague, she could tell, and God, did she hate it when he did that. Always trying to spare her indignities and slights when all he did was prolong her pride being stung.

"Then what am I giving them?" She turned back around to look at him, a frown forming on her forehead as she dreaded whatever he was going to say.

Surprisingly, he said nothing, simply held out a piece of paper that seemed to be hastily ripped from a notebook. She snatched it quickly, glancing down at the number scrawled on it and snorted. "No fucking way."

"Eleanor." Scott chided, warning yet still soft and tender and God fucking _damn it_ did he have to look at her like that?

"Scott, it will _ruin_ me. No one will take me seriously. This is something you do at the end of your fucking career, not just as it's about to reach its peak!" She looked at him imploringly but he only kept looking back at her with those big sympathetic brown eyes and the paternal scowl that told her this is what she got for fucking around with Charles Vane.

"It's the most popular reality show out there. Frankly, anything else is political suicide. At least with _this_ , you have a chance to salvage something. You never know," his face took on a teasing smirk, "maybe the public will be endeared to you. You can drag this party out of coalition into majority on the backs of middle-aged housewives." He chuckled, unable to deny that Eleanor's stunned and distraught expression caused him some small satisfaction.

"Bollocks." She muttered, her features dropping into a moody, sulking scowl as she picked up the phone from her desk, crumpling the piece of paper with the number in her hand as soon as she dialed it. She was going to kill Vane.

*

In a pair of tracksuit bottoms, an old tank top and an oversized hoodie, Eleanor had never felt more uncomfortable. Going outside meant constantly being watched, reporters trying to catch her at a distance or blatantly shoving mics and cameras in her face. That day, however, the only cameras were those for the damned show filming her as she stepped out of her car.

"Smile." She heard Scott whisper from behind her and she forced a barely-there smile and waved at the camera, knowing that it would be one of the first impressions the viewers got of her. She just had to grin and bear it, until it was all over and it _would_ be over soon. Politicians never lasted long in this competition unless they were old and particularly bad to the point where it was hilarious. Eleanor didn't expect herself to be good – far from it – but at least not terrible enough that the Great British Public would keep her in just to laugh at her literally sweeping the floor.

She was quickly ushered by a crew member, occasionally muttering commands into her earpiece, into the building and through corridors until they reached a large room. Mirrors lined the side opposite the door and at the front of the room to her left there were a handful of familiar faces milling around fold-up tables with the usual "Welcome to Three to Thirteen Weeks of Hell" platter of coffee, tea and biscuits.

"We're still waiting on a few of the other contestants to arrive. Wait in here with the others." She told Eleanor, not even looking at her as she brushed out of the room.

"Fan-fucking-tastic." Eleanor muttered under her breath, walking over to the tables and pouring a cup of the probably cheap store brand coffee. _Got to love budget cuts._ She grumbled internally as she studied the few others there. There were five, four of which had sectioned themselves off in a small group away from the other man who was so tall Eleanor swore his head was nearly brushing the roof. Of the five he was one of two that she actually recognised (and maybe she had had a brief and ever so small crush on him a few years back.)

William Manderly, better known as Billy "Bones" Manderly was someone Eleanor had definitely not expected to be here. He was at the top of his career, star player for the England rugby team and – on account of him being one of the few professional players to have all of his teeth intact – heart throb to teenage girls and hitting-fifty women everywhere.

The other she recognised was James Flint, a handsome man who kept his long ginger hair back in a ponytail. She remembered reading that the soap opera star had recently been trying to move into more sophisticated lines of work and landed a role in a London production of Hamlet. They had met often over the years at charity events and Eleanor was relieved to see someone that she knew and, at least in small doses, quite liked and got along with well.

"A surprise to see you here." An amused voice from beside her snapped her out of her musings over Flint and the posse of presumably other soap actors, realising the ostracised Billy had spoken up next to her. He seemed to grow self-conscious under her bemused gaze and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to blurt it out like that. It's just, well, y'know..."

"I'm not a washed up old has-been looking for a talk show gig?" She asked, a small smirk playing on her lips as she raised an eyebrow in question.

Billy chuckled at that, a grin spreading across his face. "Exactly." He nodded, crossing his broad arms across his chest. "Plus there's the whispers about you running for leadership. Don't you have a campaign to run?"

Eleanor scoffed a little, though a genuine smile took over her face. "Yeah, well, no comment on my career plans. But if I was going to run," she took a sip of her coffee, grimacing slightly at the gritty tang of the cheap brew, "my ex kind of fucked that up for me. So I'm here."

Flint turned around at that moment, wandering over to the two of them as his conversation with his fellow thespians ended. "You finally dumped him then?" His smile held a cutting edge to it, almost gleeful. Eleanor knew that Flint and Vane had a long running rivalry, always going up for the same roles and butting heads every chance they got, simply out of stubbornness. Fucking petty actors.

"Ages ago now. He was devastated." Eleanor couldn't help her own smile as Flint chuckled at his nemesis' suffering, greeting her with a brief one-harmed hug and glancing kiss to the cheek.

"Good. You could do so much better than that talentless lout." He turned then to Billy, having to crane his neck slightly to look the other man in the eye. "Nice to meet you, William."

"Billy, please." He grinned, shaking the shorter man's hand firmly. "S'good to meet you too."

"OK, so you know why I'm here," Eleanor turned back to Billy, "why is the rugby world's David Beckham putting on a glittery shirt and shaking his arse about?"

Flint merely chuckled at her directness while Billy seemed a little flustered. "Well..." He looked between them, finding both looking at him pointedly to spit it out. "Say I had to raise my profile because I was maybe going to become the next England captain? This is at least easier than eating Kangaroo balls in the Jungle."

Eleanor snorted around a mouthful of coffee, swallowing it down and nodding understandingly. "Shit, yeah." The three of them shared a small laugh, resigning themselves to their fate. "The shit we do for our careers."

*

Once the remainder of C-list celebrities and TV personalities had arrived and had their fill of complimentary snacks, the tables were cleared away and a man with curly black hair stepped in with a forced wide grin on his face. "Hello everyone!" His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat at the silence he was met with. "Oh, umm, my name's John Silver but I'm sure most of you know that." He winked and Eleanor could tell she was going to hate the fucker. "As the host of Strictly Come Dancing I like to come down here and introduce myself, make sure you all are excited for the great experience you'll have over the coming weeks-"

"What a load of old bollocks." She whispered to Flint beside her who scratched at his stubble to hide a laugh.

"-anyway, enough of me." He finished, his fake grin stretching even further. "Good luck to you all. You'll be getting taught a few of the basics and then paired up with the pros for your first group dance on launch night. However, we do like to keep you all on your toes. You'll find out your competition partners the same time it's announced to the public."

Eleanor was unable to stop an eye roll at that as Silver quickly fled the room and a choreographer came in, yelling for them to spread out and warm up.

Maybe, just maybe, the whole Strictly thing wouldn't be so bad. Eleanor had to admit that while learning the steps to an apparently simple routine was a little annoying, she was actually not hating it. And it was kind of hilarious to watch Billy, usually so in control on a playing field, stumble around his current partner who was at least a foot shorter than him.

"Relax." His partner told him in a heavily accented voice, laughing as he tripped over his own feet again. It was a nice laugh, musical and without any mockery as she took him through the steps again.

Eleanor found herself stumbling clueless just as Billy had and muttered an apology to the guy currently taking her through the steps. Her cheeks flushed a little at getting so distracted by Billy and his partner. His really pretty partner. His incredibly gorgeous partner with a French accent and an amazing a-

"Shit!" She cursed, stumbling over her partner's feet again who did his best to smile politely through a grimace. She turned to glare at Billy who she could hear laughing at her misery, her cheeks colouring slightly when she saw she'd also caught the attention of everyone else in the room, including the dark skinned beauty he was dancing with.

"Swap!" The choreographer announced, snapping everyone out of their staring and/or suppressed laughter as the professional dancers switched amongst themselves. Partly to keep up the confusion both the celebrities and the viewers, when the footage would be shown, over who they would be partnered with and, Eleanor assumed, partly so the show runners could actually decide the best pairings.

"Let Max take this one, Jack." Eleanor started a little at that voice, the other woman smiling like the cat who got the cream as she kept her gaze levelled on Eleanor.

The man she was talking to chuckled as he ran a hand over his small goatee and pencil moustache, shaking his head slightly. "Of course, darling." He turned, winking at Eleanor like he was letting her on in some joke she had no clue about before heading off to... Billy?

Eleanor shook her head while a few others gave Jack a few odd stares as he grabbed Billy by the waist and the song started again. "So who's Ma- oh." Eleanor cut herself off, gulping as the French woman practically stalked towards her and put a hand on her shoulder, maneuvering Eleanor's hand to her back before entwining the fingers of their free hands. Eleanor was pretty sure that wasn't the correct hold they had been told to take but all she could mutter as Max tugged her into the dance with a sure group on her shoulder was, "You're Max."

Her full lips tugged up into a small smirk as they went through the motions, her golden eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oui." She lifted their clasped hands, turning under Eleanor's arms in a fluid motion that had the other woman's eyes widening slightly in awe. "And you are Eleanor, yes?"

Eleanor's tongue felt thick and clumsy in her mouth as she realised Max had switched their positions from their previous partners with Eleanor taking on the man's role and leading. "Uh, y-yeah. Yeah." On the one hand she was thankful because it was a hell of a lot easier not having to do the steps backwards but on the other hand she felt a little self-conscious knowing she was supposed to be the one in control. Especially with Max pressed so close against her.

"No." Max whispered, feeling Eleanor retreat slightly and pressing their bodies almost flush against each other. "No gap. The judges will check for that. And you are not too bad a dancer, Eleanor." Her tone was conspiratorial as she leaned close to Eleanor's ear, her hot breath caressing the blonde's skin. "Avoid such mistakes and we can win."

She leaned back and winked at Eleanor, smiling still as they continued through the simple steps before the choreographer once again called out for them to stop.

"A pleasure, ma chère." Max gave a small curtsy as she stepped back, placing a light kiss on the back of Eleanor's hand that left her pink to the tips of her ears.

*

"Am I the only one that feels absolutely ridiculous?" Billy bemoaned, tugging at the skin-tight sequined shirt he had been dressed in.

"Don't worry, I'm right there with you." Eleanor gritted out through her teeth, flicking at the green fringe of her dress that barely covered her body. She had never been embarrassed about her body but she was more used to walking along red carpets in a suit not a salsa dress.

"5 MINUTES!" Someone yelled from the front of the celebrities lined up, all of them being fussed over by the entirety of the costume and make-up departments checking for any sign of smudged lipstick or a torn seam.

"At least you won't make a fool of yourself on the dance floor." Billy muttered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Flatterer." Eleanor muttered, punching his muscled arm lightly.

Billy shook his head with a small smile. "I'm serious. The week we were practicing, you actually looked pretty good. Even some of the dancers said so." He squeezed her shoulder as they were lead forward, hearing the crowd clapping off-time to the theme song blasting through the studio.

"Shit." She muttered under her breath, biting at her lip until she caught one of the make-up artists glaring at her for it. Her plan had been to be enough of a fuck-up so as to avoid any attention and drift out quietly in the first couple of weeks but not too bad of a failure to get the hilarity vote. If what Billy said was true... _Shit._

Billy, seemingly not have heard her, turned to give her a small smile before his name was announced and stepping out onto the brightly lit stage before descending the steps to cheers and applause, even a high-pitched announcement of "WE LOVE YOU BILLY" coming from somewhere in the crowd.

When Eleanor was called the crowd was much more subdued, giving the minimum amount of applause to be considered polite. _Well, at least they're not booing. Or throwing eggs._ She mused as she went down the stairs, keeping a smile plastered on her face while scanning the crowd. The smile came easier to her once she spotted Scott sitting in the second row, clapping along with the rest of the crowd. The seat next to him was unsurprisingly empty but rather than disappointment she felt a rush of relief. It was better that it was just Scott and not her "father" too.

The show went by quicker than she would have thought as most of the time they spent was sitting backstage while they brought on singers or the pro dancers performed for the crowd. Through the curtains she caught a few glimpses of Jack dancing with Anne – a quick-tempered redhead who had nearly busted Billy's nose when he'd stepped on her feet – who was his partner both on the dance-floor and off.

A crew member came behind stage to usher them one by one back onto the floor to have their partners announced. Five of the fifteen of them that were gathered went out before Flint was announced, paired off with Miranda whom, he told Eleanor, he had felt the best "chemistry" with during their training. Next it had been Billy, shockingly partnered with Jack that had earned a few gasps from the crowd before the applause had begun, tenfold of what had been for any other pair so far.

When the crew member came to collect her, she took a breath to collect herself before heading out. The applause seemed a bit louder this time, probably still rolling from a high of Billy's pairing, before it quieted to allow Silver to speak, putting an arm around Eleanor's waist. Fortunately for him he kept his hand high enough to keep Eleanor from ripping said arm off.

They played a mish-mash of clips they had filmed of her during training alongside the interviews they took of each of them. She cast a quick glance to Scott who smiled proudly and took it as a good sign that she seemed at least somewhat personable.

"Eleanor." Silver sighed out her name as if they were fond old friends. God, but he was annoying. "Are you ready to find out your dancing partner?" He grinned at her, enjoying the moment of dragging it out far too much for her liking.

"Ready as I'll ever be, John." She laughed, keeping her expression as happy as possible while trying to strike the fear of God in him with her eyes.

Apparently it worked. "Ha ha, right then." Silver chuckled awkwardly as he turned to the dancers lined up and standing primly to run towards their assigned celebrities. "You're partner is..." A clichéd drum roll sounded from the speakers during the seconds long pause and Eleanor couldn't help but play with her hands absently as she waited for what felt like an eternity.

"MAX!"

... _Wait, what?_

Her mouth formed a small 'O' as the shorter woman slid out from between two of her fellow dancers, a dazzling smile as she twirled effortlessly across the floor towards Eleanor. The shock only wore off when Max nearly barrelled into her, somehow keeping herself and Eleanor both upright as she finished her little routine with a flourish. Eleanor could feel the heat of Max's thigh as her leg was curled up and pressed against Eleanor's side.

"Are you happy with our pick, Eleanor?" Silver butted in, Max not even acknowledging his presence as she kept her eyes trained on Eleanor, dropping her leg and hands to stand beside her and wrap an arm around her waist.

"I..." She trailed off as she felt fingers absently playing the fringing on her dress, just above her thigh. _Jesus fucking Christ._ The hand stilled. Silence dropped over the room and Silver's blue eyes widened in shock. _Shit, did I say that out loud?_ She panicked as she felt Max's arm slip from around her and clasp her hand to lead her off up to the seating area where the other celebrities already partnered sat, some of them gaping at her, while Silver stuttered his way back into presenter mode to introduce the next contestant.

"Well done, Miss Guthrie." Flint greeted her with a laugh as he stood up. "You just swore live on national television."


End file.
